


This Was Fun

by flamingburningfandomtrash



Series: Worth A Shot [2]
Category: Underfell - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluffy, Growing Up, Light Angst, Married Life, OC from This Should Be Fun, parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23755891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamingburningfandomtrash/pseuds/flamingburningfandomtrash
Summary: In which Andale grows up.
Relationships: Sans (Underfell)/Reader
Series: Worth A Shot [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711018
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62





	1. Age One

**Author's Note:**

> every chapter is just me imagining her at different ages, might skip around, might get a little angsty??  
> chapter titles are her age in the chapter  
> chapter length will vary drastically  
> ehehehhh

Sans. Is bored. It’s what he gets for being a stay-at-home dad, and Andale is just crawling around doing nothing. Of course, he’s had his fair share of near disasters, but not a lot of bonding time. His google search history is currently being filled with “interesting games to play with your baby” and “can one year olds solve puzzles”. 

Here’s something: 

“Set a pen, a dollar bill, and a toy in front of your baby. What they choose to pick up first may tell the type of personality they have when they grow up!”

Well, it’s better than nothing.

He scoops up Andale and carries her into the kitchen, helping her sit up against a stack of cookbooks and digging around for a pen and a dollar bill in the junk drawer. A toy shouldn’t be hard to find, but he’ll pick one she doesn’t play with much- no bias. Alright- a ballpoint pen, a five dollar bill (who cares how much it’s worth, she can’t read), and a plastic pink dolphin. He thinks the grinning fish is creepy, and that’s why he stuffed it in this drawer, but it’s worth a shot.

“alrighty, sweetpea,” he says, scooping her up and carrying her into the living room. She stares at him with those big, wide, beautiful eyes, curious and sleepy-looking. He sets her carefully on the floor and lines up the objects in front of her, sitting cross-legged on the other side. “you go ‘head.”

For about ten seconds, she just stared at the line-up like she was trying to decide which one stole her purse or something, before crawling forward. Sans couldn’t help himself- he sucked in a breath as she raised her hand up. She brought it down on the dolphin, to his dismay, but then suddenly used it to push everything out of her way before letting go. She crawled right past the little pile of things and straight at Sans, letting out an excited coo when she got to him, crawling into his lap.

He had no idea he was one of the options.

And now he thinks he might cry.  
His sweetpea chose him.

“sweetpea,” he laughs, picking her up under her armpits and holding her high up in the air- “i love you so much!”

“ah lav yoo!” she crows, putting her hands in the air. 

Sans is speechless- he wishes you were here, you should have gotten all of this on camera. Her first words were “i love you.” To HIM, no less! Stars, that feels good. 

“ah luv yoo! ah luv yoo!”

“I love you, too, sweetpea,” he says, cradling her delicately in his arms, bouncing her a little. “So much.”


	2. Age Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Andale is stuck in a tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey youre andale now how fun

“ican’tdothisican’tican’tican’t-“ you choke, refusing to look down, yet glancing down anyway.

What a predicament to be in. Sixteen feet in the air, clinging onto a branch like it’s a long-lost brother, tears in the corners of your eyes. That’s what you get for trying to play with other kids, you hear the adults muttering on the park benches, as they ignore you. The kids chased you with sticks until you teleported up here. Even you aren’t sure how you did it, but you know for sure you don’t like it now. Your parents- a skeleton named Sans, who would probably have scared those kids half out of their wits, and your mom, who probably would be climbing up here to help you get down now… if they knew where you were. You can see them, little specks on the playground in the distance, calling for you.

You hope they ask some of those kids where they chased you off to…

That’s what’s fun about kids. They do whatever adults tell them to, and you’re positive the brown-haired boy who led the charge got instructions from his dad or something. He managed to smack you in the arm with a stick, and pretty hard, but the worst he gave you was a light scrape and a couple splinters. Fortunately, he was the only one who landed a hit on you.

You consider screaming for help… but then those kids would probably come back, or one of the snotty adults would start scolding you from sixteen feet below, which is the last thing you need right now. Maybe a nicer adult will come by soon? You look at the sidewalk below, but nobody’s walking by. Of course it had to be sidewalk, you’re guaranteed to break something important if you try falling down. 

Maybe you could do the fake-it-til-you-make it thing and convince yourself you were perfectly capable of moving from this spot if you weren’t terrified of heights. But your magic- which you assumed was responsible for putting you in the position in the first place- couldn’t have known that. You set your sights on your parents again- mom is doing the thing where she wraps her arms around herself, like she does when she’s nervous, and dad is just checking the same spots over and over again. The kids have all fled by now. Fantastic, it could be hours before they find you…

You risk another glance dow to look for passerby, but your stomach drops at the height. No, nononono, that is too high.

Your idea to go to a park in the first place, you remind yourself. You wanted to go out and try to play with other kids. And you knew what would happen. You knew someone would be rude. You knew someone wouldn’t let you play make-believe. You knew someone would kick mulch on you or something. And then your parents would come back to find you playing by yourself, looking sort of disappointed. Whenever you called them out on it, they would hide it, but you could always see it. Your mom told you you got your dad’s ability to read faces. You wish you didn’t get that power.

You wish you could taco your tongue like your mom. You would trade those abilities in a heartbeat. 

The thought of tacos makes your stomach growl- oh, and there’s that. Your parents would have SEEN you getting chased off if they hadn’t been grabbing lunch. More like brunch, because you didn’t have breakfast. Which just makes you queasier than before. You finally just rest your face on the scratchy wood of the branch and sigh, forcing yourself to relax a little. 

“dad, come on… i’m over here… mom…”

When you look up, as if checking if that worked, you see both of them… looking your direction? How could they have heard that?! You were barely able to hear it yourself… wait. Soul connections! You nearly forgot those, the things dad talks about sometimes to explain weird things he and mom do sometimes- like get really close on the couch so they can hear each others souls and stuff. You focus all your energy on trying to reach them, however it works.

“please, i’m in the tree, over here, please please please…”

They’re coming this way!! Finally!

“up in the tree, over here! over here!”

But… they stopped. Could they not hear you that time? Fantastic, your magic stopped working again. Just like every time you need it. Great.

“no, no, no, please- no, over here, in the tree, mom, please… dad, come on, help me…”

They’re walking to the left of you by a long shot, like they got a signal and then lost it. You smack your forehead on your branch, tears springing to your eyes when the rough bark scratches up your forehead. Ouch. You make sure none of your tears fall off the tree, however- they’re red as blood, and if someone thinks the tree is bleeding-

wait.

You smack your forehead on the branch again, whimpering slightly this time- you might have drawn blood. The tears are back, and you lean over the side of the branch, clinging to it tightly. If they can see the suspicious red on the sidewalk, maybe they’ll look up, and maybe they’ll see you! Or at least someone will, maybe… you notice a ruby drop falling not from your eyes, but from your forehead, and decide maybe you shouldn’t scrape your head on the branch anymore.

You try to imagine what dad would say if he was here… he’s always really good at calming you down when you’re panicking. He’d call you sweetpea, probably, and he would shortcut up here. And he would pull you close to him and tell you that everything is going to be fine, and he would shortcut you to the ground, and mom would help patch up your face, and you could all go out for tacos. You whisper again, in case they can hear you.

“i’m in the tree, dad, mom, i’m over here… PLEASE.”

When you look to your left, you see them walking your way again. Maybe you have to be really emotional for this to work like you want. A game of hot and cold where you can only say hot or cold a couple times, and you don’t get to control when it is. 

“Hey!”

You glance down. There’s brown-haired boy, poised on the bottom branch with his stick. You didn’t even notice him come up to you. No, no, if he gets too close you’re either going to fall out or get beaten to pieces.

“You stuck up there?”

“why do you care?”

“‘Cause you’re crying blood, and that’s pretty cool, and I was thinking I could help you get down!”

You pause, suspicious. “then why do you have the stick?”

He pauses, then finally sighs, sounding annoyed with you. “Fine, freak, I’m climbing up there to get you. Happy?”

He starts scaling the branches, glancing at you as your face becomes harshly panicked. You force your arms to let go of the tree branch, untangle your legs, get to your feet on the skinny branch. And you climb higher. Seventeen feet. Eighteen feet. Nineteen feet. Twenty feet. He just keeps coming, grinning as the branches you try to put your weight on bend and wave. 

“So you’re fat, too!”

“stop it! stop it, stop it, i don’t want to do this!”

“No!”

You put all your efforts on trying to call your parents with your soul, crying out with everything you have in you, clinging to the trunk as brown-haired boy gets to the spot you were in originally.

“please, dad, i need help, he’s gonna knock me out of the tree and kill me, i don’t want to do this, i want to go home, please…”

This time, you hear something back.

“where are ya, sweetpea, c’mon…”

It’s like a feeling- like you’re feeling him say the words right next to you, coaxing you and rubbing your back like he always does to make you feel better. 

“i’m in the tree with the brown haired kid in it, the one with the red stuff on the sidewalk next to it… dad?”

“i gotcha, sweetpea, we’re comin’… i see ya, hold on.”

He sees you? You look down to the sidewalk, where he’s standing, glaring at the brown haired boy. If looks could kill, that kid would have died a hundred times over. At a single word- “hey!”- from your dad, he starts climbing down. You wish you could do the same, but you’re frozen in place, clinging to the trunk. Then, shouted up from the ground-

“sweetpea, how ya holdin’ up?”

“not great,” you admit, glancing at your hands. The “human” one is all scraped up and splintered, and the “skeleton” one is bruising a bit. Not to mention your forehead and the scratch on your shoulder. “this is gonna smart later.”

“i’m comin’ up there, ok? hold on.”

With a little thump and a couple of curse words, he’s perched on the branch just below you. You constantly have to remind yourself, despite the bones, he’s significantly lighter than most humans. Hell, lighter than some animals. So he’s on a limb you could never have trusted your weight on, holding to the trunk for balance. When he sees your scratched, bruised, teary self, you think his soul is going to break. His eyelights just look so sad. Well, until they don’t.

“did that kid in the tree do this to ya, sweetpea?”

“no, most of it was just me being stupid,” you admit- you want to look at him, but that would mean looking down a little, and so instead you just force your eyes shut. 

“hey, darlin’, you gotta open your eyes if i’m gonna help ya down.”

“i know…” you whine, forcing them open. “i’m sorry, it’s just-“ you suck in a breath and close them again when you see how far down it is. “high…”

“hey… it’s all good. you trust me?”

“uh… yeah…?”

“i’m gonna keep ya safe. we’re both gonna get down safe, ok? so you gotta trust me here. open your eyes.” You oblige, looking upward and not at him. “and focus on me. don’t look down. just look at me.”

You finally do- he smiles encouragingly and holds out a hand for you to take. You shake your head, your hands are your balance right now, no way.

“i looked at you, isn’t that everything i need to do?”

“i can’t shortcut us down there by you lookin’ at me. that was step one.”

“okay- okay. hand. and then we shortcut down?”

“yeah. step two and done.”

“okay. okay.” You keep saying it, your little mantra, as you force one hand away from the tree trunk, holding it out to him. He takes it in his, securely, just like he always does. The tight hand-holding he’s always done makes you feel like he was always training for this moment and you just had no idea. Weird. “you gonna shortcut us down? dad?”

“sweetpea, i am so sorry for this…”

Before you have a second to question it, he’s yanked on your hand, pulling you clean out of the tree. He then jumps backwards so you land in his chest, and shortcuts both of you mid-air. When you resurface on the grass just beyond the sidewalk, Sans holds you very still and very close, letting you get over the shock of the thing. 

“there we go, sweetpea, you’re safe… we’re on the ground, i gotcha. shh…”

“ooohhh my god…”

“you’re all good- i could use a little momma-ssistance over here,” he adds, calling over to your mom- she comes over and painstakingly looks over all your injuries. They sting, but you can’t say anything. You’re just shaky from the adrenaline and fear, trembling lightly as she checks you over. Finally, she says,

“I don’t think any of these will need band-aids except the one on your forehead. The rest require kisses.”

Most of the time, you’d probably be embarrassed by her kissing you all over in front of the stuffy parents and the mean kids, but right now you couldn’t care less. You’ve earned your break period. And you want to spend it right here. 

“i can’t believe you pulled me off…” you breathe, laughing shakily. “and there you were saying i could trust you, heheh.”

“had to get ya down somehow. you think that wasn’t scary for me? i hit one tree branch, *thunk*, that’s game over for me.”

Just like he always does for you, you get a little gloomier at the thought of losing him, and thank him with a silent hug. He just sighs and rocks you back and forth. 

“where’s the kid who chased ya up there in the first place, sweetpea?”

“I handled him while you two were in the tree, don’t worry about it,” your mom says confidently, pecking him on the top of the head. He relaxes and nods, pulling her into your little sitting group hug, too. “He won’t be bothering anyone anytime soon.”

“that’s right, baby. nice. y’hear that, sweetpea? nobody’s messin’ with ya anymore.”

He exchanges a look with your mom over your shoulder when you don’t respond, but you finally just pull them both really close in a hug and try to hide yourself sniffing. 

“I really love you guys…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was inspired by a book i read  
> the whole thing takes place inside a well  
> you keep thinking  
> 'when is she going to get out of the well'  
> but she doesn't until the end

**Author's Note:**

> it's short i am aware


End file.
